


Let Me Be (Your Favourite One)

by dressedupasmyself



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: DMLE, F/M, Ministry of Magic, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dressedupasmyself/pseuds/dressedupasmyself
Summary: Hermione Granger does not take being undermined lightly.“I need to speak to Minister Shacklebolt.”Kingsley’s secretary gave her a blank look. “Ms Granger, you know I can’t just let you in.”Hermione held his gaze with unwavering fierceness. “And you know, Malcolm, that I do not take no for an answer.”Malcolm pursed his lips. “He’s busy.”“Is he currently in a meeting?” Hermione asked.“No.”“Then go tell him I need to see him. It’s a matter of urgency.”
Relationships: Harry Potter & Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27
Collections: Heart Attack Exchange 2020





	Let Me Be (Your Favourite One)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song 'your favorite one' by lovelytheband.

Hermione Granger does not take being undermined lightly.

“I need to speak to Minister Shacklebolt.”

Kingsley’s secretary gave her a blank look. “Ms Granger, you know I can’t just let you in.”

Hermione held his gaze with unwavering fierceness. “And you know, Malcolm, that I do not take no for an answer.”

Malcolm pursed his lips. “He’s busy.”

“Is he currently in a meeting?” Hermione asked.

“No.”

“Then go tell him I need to see him. It’s a matter of urgency.”

Malcolm looked like he was seriously considering quitting his job. While Hermione didn’t take pride in being bothersome enough to make multiple Ministry employees resign, she did find it a helpful tool when eradicating the most spineless of employees.

“Fine.” He stood, albeit reluctantly. “But this is the last time I let you in to see him without an appointment.”

Hermione smiled sweetly. “No, I don’t think it will be.”

Malcolm’s jaw clenched, but he rounded the corner to Kingsley’s office without another word.

Hermione waited impatiently, still seething from the meeting she’d had with John Dawlish not ten minutes prior.

As one of the few Ministry employees remaining from before the war, it was obvious that Dawlish considered himself above the younger generation, no matter their rank. As Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione was well within her rights to fire him on the spot. However, she did believe him to be excellent at his job and with few alternative candidates of the same skill level, she had little choice but to deal with this the hard way: through paperwork and disciplinary procedures.

Malcolm returned. As expected, he merely waved her through.

“Ms Granger.” Kingsley smiled at her from behind his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hermione dropped herself into a chair. “I need to take disciplinary action against Dawlish.”

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to terminate his employment?”

“No.” Hermione took a sheet of parchment from her bag and placed it on the table in front of Kingsley. “But he cannot keep doing this.”

Kingsley’s eyes flicked over the document. It was an official statement given by one of the junior Hit-Wizards about an unauthorised questioning of a distant relation to a witch with suspected Death Eater involvement.

“Wasn’t this case assigned to the Auror Office for further investigation?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “Which is why Hit-Wizards getting involved is a problem. Robards brought it to my attention. The Aurors had reason to believe that Jugson was in contact with his cousin for medical reasons and had been watching her closely. The Hit-Wizards’ interrogation rendered months of work irrelevant.”

Kingsley frowned. “The point of having a Head of DMLE to oversee all subdivisions is to avoid precisely this problem. If you brought this to me, I assume you went to see Dawlish, too?”

“Of course,” Hermione confirmed, “He told me to buy myself a pacifier for my tantrum.”

“In those exact words?”

“No, he was much ruder.” Hermione turned up her nose. “I don’t mind being criticized, but at this point I can’t do my job, and neither can the other divisions in the department.”

Kingsley nodded, handing the report back to her. “Of course not. This is unacceptable.”

“What are my options?”

“I would suggest drafting a formal complaint with the Wizengamot. It will be his first written warning. If he gets another one, he will be suspended from work and given a full disciplinary hearing in front of the Chief Warlock.”

Hermione sighed. “Paperwork.”

“Unfortunately,” Kingsley agreed. Do you want me to have a word with him?”

“No,” she said. “I think I need to handle this myself if I want any chance of earning his respect.”

“Very well.” Kingsley sat back in his seat. “While I have you here, can you give me any updates on the goblin situation?”

Hermione nodded. “As we know, the protests in Wimbourne a few weeks ago were instigated by the Brotherhood of Goblins. The DMLE wouldn’t even have been involved in normal circumstances, but it turned violent and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures called for backup. The Auror Office took two goblins and a local wizard into custody. Both goblins were released to the Goblin Liaison Office for further negotiations and the wizard was pardoned with a warning, since he had mostly acted in self-defence. I believe the B.O.G. has since admitted several appeals with the Wizengamot.”

“What are the appeals for?”

“The usual,” Hermione said, “They want al laws involving goblins revisited, particularly the Wand Ban. They want repossession of goblin-made artefacts. They want to renegotiate the wages of Gringotts goblins.”

Kingsley brought his fingers up to tap lightly against his lips. “Have the Wizengamot made any decisions?”

“No, sir.”

“What do you think they should do?”

Hermione hesitated. “It’s very complicated.”

Kinsley almost smiled. “I know. That’s why I would like to hear your opinion.”

Hermione did smile, then started talking. “I think that, if we want the goblins and other magical creatures to respect the ministry and the procedures we have in place, we need to address their concerns. If we tell them to work through the liaison office and file their appeals with the Wizengamot, like any witch or wizard would need to do, and we then ignore them, they will resort to more desperate measures. I think we’ve come a long way since the goblin wars, and we are fully capable of learning from our mistakes.”

“But?”

“That said, I also think that touching the Wand Ban will open the doors to any creature wanting a wand. I might think it fair to share our wandlore, to a certain extent, with goblins, because we do rely on their expertise when it comes to armour and metalwork, but I don’t necessarily like the idea of handing wands to giants. How would we justify loosening restrictions for one and not the other?”

“I’m sure there are ways around it.”

“There could be,” Hermione agreed, “If we’re very careful with our phrasing.”

“Alright.” Kingsley nodded. “I want you to put together a taskforce. I don’t want this matter to disappear in the piles of bureaucracy. Have them report directly to you, and keep me in the loop.”

“Of course. Is that all?”

“Unless there’s something else on your mind?”

Hermione shook her head and stood. “That’s all I have for now. Thank you for your time, Minister.”

Kingsley gave her an approving nod.

She was about to leave, her hand on the doorknob, when he spoke again. “Oh, and Ms Granger?”

She looked at him expectantly.

“Cut Malcolm some slack. It’s his job to keep unwanted people out of my office.”

Hermione grinned sheepishly. “In all fairness, Minister, I don’t particularly care if I’m wanted or not. I will prioritise a functioning society over politeness any day.”

Nevertheless, she did manage a grateful smile for Kingsley’s secretary on the way out.

“We don’t have anything to eat,” Hermione argued, her legs swinging lightly from her spot on the kitchen counter. She had a wineglass in hand, which she thought she deserved after the day she’d had.

“That’s very dramatic,” Harry said, staring into the nearly empty fridge, “and inaccurate.”

“Can’t we get take-out?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. “No. You need to eat a vegetable.”

Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh. “We can get take-out with vegetables in. Those do exist.”

Harry shot her an amused smile and started taking ingredients from the fridge. “What would Kingsley say if his favourite employee passed out on the job on account of being severely malnourished?”

“Now who’s being dramatic?” Hermione took a sip of her wine.

“It’s hardly dramatic if it’s entirely feasible. Did you even eat lunch today?”

“Of course I did,” Hermione said, affronted. “There were pumpkin pasties in the atrium.”

Harry’s expression made her laugh.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Hermione assured him. “I can take care of myself.”

Harry took a knife from the drawer. “You always take care of everyone. The least I can do is make sure you eat properly every now and then.”

Harry started chopping. He looked completely in his element, dressed in soft jeans and a jumper that fit snugly. It never failed to make Hermione happy to see him like this, with his guard completely down. She thought that he deserved any semblance of normalcy after everything he’d been through.

“I have some work-related things to discuss with you.”

The corners of Harry’s lips turned up, likely at the predictability of where Hermione steered the conversation. “Yeah?”

“How familiar are you with the goblin protests that happened in Wimbourne earlier this month?”

Harry frowned at the carrots he was slicing. “I only heard about it in passing, I wasn’t personally assigned to the case. Why?”

“I want to personally assign you on the case.”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, “Why?”

“The B.O.G. is causing trouble again, but they made an effort to follow Ministry procedures. Kingsley wants to reward that to set precedent for future appeals and hopefully prevent another war. I’m putting together a task-force to review goblin-related legislation and have detailed negotiations with the B.O.G.”

Harry pulled a face. “Laws and history? That’s hardly my area of expertise.”

“Maybe not,” Hermione agreed, “but you’re an Investigative Auror and you understand how goblins think. They don’t just want the Wand Ban revisited; they also want repossession of goblin-made artefacts. We don’t know where many of them are at the moment, which is where you come in.”

“You want me to track down old jewellery and weapons? Isn’t there more important work to do?”

Hermione shook her head. “That’s the thing. The reason why goblins are so quick to turn to violent protests is because they’re used to their affairs being side-lined. We need to put an end to the cycle and show them that if they cooperate, we will come through on our promises.”

Harry seemed to think it over. “Goblins aren’t exactly trustworthy. How do you expect us to keep them accountable?”

Hermione had been thinking about this all week. “We need to use their own tricks against them. If they want to use vague wording to leave loopholes for them to weasel out of deals, then we need to make sure we’ve covered all our bases. We can’t risk half-hearted efforts leaving us vulnerable if we’re going to have goblins running around with wands of their own.”

“Alright,” Harry said. “I’ll help you with this if you really think I have anything meaningful to contribute.”

Hermione was used to this, but that didn’t make her heart break any less. Even after leading the DA, defeating Voldemort and becoming one of the youngest wizards to be promoted above Junior Auror, Harry still didn’t think he had anything of value to offer to society.

“You’re much smarter than you give yourself credit for, Harry. I wouldn’t have asked you to do this with me if I didn’t think you were capable. You know I don’t operate that way.”

And she didn’t. Kingsley had come to her with an offer to waive N.E.W.T requirements for DA members looking to enter the Ministry, which Hermione had turned down at the cost of having to take the time to write them herself.

“I know,” Harry said. “I’m just making sure. Who will I be working with?”

Hermione explained her plan to him. He recommended some people that surprised her, even though it really shouldn’t have. Harry was good at seeing value where others might miss it completely.

By the time they sat down at the kitchen table to eat, Hermione was feeling very good about her day.

“Have you spoken to Ron?”

Of course, until Harry brought _him_ up.

Hermione frowned down at her plate. “No.”

Things had been different after the war. It wasn’t unexpected. Their lives had been so far from normal for so long that figuring out how to live without the expectation of inevitable, imminent death felt like an impossible task.

At first, they’d all been caught in the waves of emotion that accompanied their victory. There was elation and relief and an overwhelming feeling of safety that came with getting to return home after months on the run. Death Eaters were being captured left and right and the media was running exposes on anyone with a hidden agenda.

There were also funerals. There was no denying that despite their wins, they’d lost so much, too. Being around the Weasleys was a bittersweet privilege that Harry and Hermione endured together. They both knew that, while they were more than welcome at the newly restored Burrow, they would always be outsiders.

Ron and Hermione’s relationship started out feeling like the most natural of occurrences. She loved him so much, and there was little doubt that he felt the same.

But then life went on. Month after month passed and they were somehow still alive. Kingsley, as the newly elected Minister for Magic, offered all three of them jobs in the new regime he was building.

“I don’t want any old prejudices to stick its head out in five or six years,” he’d told them. “When previous generations got things as wrong as we did, there is no other alternative but to turn to the young to implement change. Continuing as if nothing happened after the first war is what lead to the second. We’re not doing that again.”

At first, Hermione hadn’t been sure that any of what Kingsley had been talking about would be possible. They were all familiar with the concept of bureaucracy. It didn’t take kindly to change, no matter the cause. Even with Kingsley in charge, they still had to follow protocol.

But he had been clever in his distribution of power within the departments. Within the first two years, he and Hermione had revamped almost every department as if it had been a game of chess. While the Ministry was still far from perfect, they were both in agreement that having a functioning system of leaders would help the Wizarding World recover.

The job didn’t come without sacrifices, however. Ron had already made up his mind about choosing his family over the rest of the world. This decision didn’t surprise either Harry or Hermione in the slightest. They both agreed that, had they been privileged enough to have real family to come back to, they would have done the same.

In the end, it wasn’t Hermione’s commitment to her job that caused the relationship to crumble. Ron always knew what it would be like to date Hermione Granger. What neither of them factored in was how difficult it was to support someone else when you’ve barely dealt with your own problems. It was Ron who asked for the break, but neither of them were particularly happy with the arrangement.

Hermione sighed. “I’m giving him space.”

“Of course.” Harry shovelled some stir fry into his mouth.

Hermione gave him a look. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Agree with me even though you clearly disapprove.”

Harry swallowed and put down his fork.

“Just because I think it’s ridiculous doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing for your relationship. I’m not in the business of sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

Hermione grinned despite herself. “Isn’t that exactly the business you’re in?”

Harry shook his head at her in mock disapproval, but she could see the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “My nose belongs in Auror investigations. It doesn’t belong here.”

Hermione’s smile softened. “I know. You’re a good friend.”

He smiled properly. “Someone has to be.”

She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue, but it was a near thing.

“How is Ginny?”

Harry’s entire being seemed to soften.

In complete contrast to Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny had found solace in each other’s company. Ginny, driven nuts by her family’s constant nearness, liked the escape and quietness Harry provided, and Harry just liked to be near people he considered his.

Hermione knew that it took a lot out of Harry when Ginny left to play for the Hollyhead Harpies. She also knew that it probably never even crossed his mind to ask her to stay, since he would rather sit alone in his big, empty house and miss her quietly than hold her back from getting the things she wanted. Hermione wasn’t sure if Ginny was aware of how much Harry missed her when she was gone, but she made an effort to come home most weekends, which pointed towards the affirmative.

It worked out pretty well for Hermione to live with him for the time being. She didn’t have to make commitments like signing a lease, in case she and Ron decided to give their relationship another go, and Harry had company. She did feel a little like the third wheel whenever Ginny visited, but that was entirely her own fault. Neither Ginny nor Harry acted weirdly towards her; in fact, she got the impression that Ginny thought her entire breakup with Ron was a ruse so she could keep an eye on Harry.

She almost wished it had been.

“She’ll be here tomorrow,” Harry said. “We’re going for lunch at the Burrow and then we might go see a Muggle film. There’s something about witches that Ginny wanted to go laugh at.”

“That sounds like fun.” Hermione’s voice sounded flat, even to herself. Under normal circumstances, she would have been at the Burrow as well.

Harry frowned. “You know you’re always welcome.”

“It wouldn’t feel right.” She forced a smile. “It’s okay, really. I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

It was clear that Harry didn’t believe her. She couldn’t blame him. She barely believed herself.

Hermione’s favourite part of running the DMLE was her untethered access to the Department of Mysteries. She remembered being endlessly intrigued by what went on behind the carefully locked doors when she’d first heard about the department’s existence, back in school.

The battle they had in fifth year had barely dampened her curiosity. In fact, after the dust had settled and they’d all come to terms with nearly dying, she started thinking more about what she’d seen. She wanted to know everything that was being researched and she wanted to understand it. If things had gone differently, she thought that she might seriously have considered becoming an Unspeakable.

As it was, even with her title, the Unspeakables kept her at arm’s length. She knew that if she insisted on getting answers from them, they were obligated to tell her everything she needed to know. She had sworn the same secrecy vows as everyone who had any significant clearance within the department. She knew not to take it personally. Every time they evaded her questions with vague redirections, they were doing their jobs, and she of all people could not berate them for that.

Her shoes click-clacked on the marble floors. It was very rare for her to make it past the first corridor before being intercepted by an Unspeakable. As expected, her hand had barely closed around the doorknob when Blaise Zabini popped up beside her, seemingly out of thin air.

“Ms Granger.” He smiled, and she still found it slightly unsettling. Not enough to indicate that anything was wrong, but enough to make her put her guard up. It seemed to be a running theme among the Unspeakables. “You’re early, as usual.”

Hermione grinned. “You can’t blame me for trying, Blaise.”

He stared at her for just a moment too long before waving her through the now-open door. “Please.”

Hermione stepped into the rotating room. It didn’t scare her nearly as much as it might have, once. Blaise’s tight grip on her arm steadied her so she could focus on the turning of the doors and keep track of her own feet.

They went through a door that opened to another black and white corridor. She knew the way from here, and Blaise eased his grip on her.

“How are you?” Hermione asked as they made their way to Blaise’s office, which was right at the end of the hall.

“Very well,” Blaise said. “I have a strong team in the Fantasy Quidditch League.”

“That’s good.” Hermione still found it difficult to feign interest in Quidditch if someone she cared about wasn’t directly involved.

Blaise didn’t try to extend their small talk, leaving them to cross the remaining distance to his office in slightly awkward silence.

Once they were seated at opposite sides of Blaise’s desk, Hermione brought out a neat stack of parchment that Blaise eyed with a carefully indifferent smile.

“Ms Granger, as usual, I doubt we have anything to discuss.”

Hermione ignored him. The Department of Mysteries fell under her division of the Ministry, and she would be damned if she allowed herself to be caught off guard just because the Unspeakables wanted to keep secrets from her that she had clearance to know.

“We’ve had this discussion before,” she explained calmly, “One day I will no longer be the Head of the DMLE. When that day comes, there will be no more need for you and I to sit through these monthly meetings. Until then, I would appreciate your cooperation.”

He aimed his fake smile in her direction. “Of course.”

Hermione nodded and jumped right in.

“Did the Department of Mysteries have any contact with Unspeakable Kirke in the last month?”

Kirke, who Hermione vaguely remembered from Hogwarts, had been working undercover in Norway for the previous four months. They had suspicions that some rogue Death Eaters had fled to Trondheim, which had been more or less confirmed by reported sightings of three convicted Death Eaters. Hermione had given the case to the Unspeakables because of the extreme panic that would break out if the Wizarding Public were to get wind of another possible uprising of Voldemort’s army. She needed them to be as discreet as possible. No matter how much of a headache it gave her to deal with the secrecy going on in the department, she valued their commitment to staying under the radar.

“Yes.”

Hermione lifted her self-inking quill. “I’m going to need all the information about these interactions, regardless of your opinion on its relevance.”

Blaise nodded, clearly not happy with the arrangement. “I will arrange a briefing.”

“Good.” Hermione made a note. She asked for a few more updates on different ongoing Unspeakable projects, including the restorations being done on the Hall of Prophecies. Most of the prophecies had been completely destroyed during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, but there was some salvaging that could be done in cases where the objects of the prophecies weren’t present at the moment of its destruction. The salvaging process was extremely time consuming and required a high skill level that only a few of the active Unspeakables possessed.

Once she had as much information as she could get with how unwilling Blaise was to provide answers, she changed the subject. “I am officially notifying the Department of Mysteries that the DMLE is preparing to launch negotiations with goblins regarding the Wand Ban. They have also requested that all goblin-made artefacts be returned to them. We intend to comply with their demands as far as we can, within reason. If the Department of Mysteries have any information that could affect these negotiations, I need to be made aware of it as soon as possible so as to limit any errors made due to the Goblin Relations Taskforce not being completely informed.”

At Blaise’s increased disapproval, Hermione added, “This means you also need to disclose any goblin-made artefacts that might be in use somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.”

Blaise took a second to answer. “Ms Granger, the work of the Department of Mysteries is kept secret for a reason. Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be if some of the information we’ve collected were to leak to the wrong people?”

She fixed him with a serious look. “Unspeakable Zabini, I’m not a random witch off the street looking to gain intel into Unspeakable matters that are none of my business. I’m the Head of the DMLE, and it is my job to ensure that individual subdivisions don’t interfere with each other’s work. We form part of the same Ministry, even if the nature of the work we do are different. I can’t keep the Aurors out of Unspeakable business if I don’t know what that business is in the first place. If you want me to have your back, Blaise, you need to let me close enough to reach it.”

“That’s all very well,” Blaise said, and Hermione thought that this was the closest to normal she had seen him since he took over as Head Unspeakable. “But how do you expect me to trust that, if given the choice between my Unspeakables and Auror Potter, you will not automatically act in the best interest of your own friends? I have no intention of playing around with the lives of my team, Granger. They make too many sacrifices for this department not to deserve my loyalty.”

This was what made every argument for the preservation of Slytherin House completely worth it. While Hermione was long past the days of basing her entire opinion of someone off of nothing but the decision of a spelled hat, she knew that it was impossible to spend as much time with people as they did at Hogwarts without being influenced by them in some way. The combined sense of loyalty that came with Slytherin house might be skewed in the direction of people they considered as their own, but it was still loyalty, and Hermione valued that.

“I won’t give anyone preferential treatment, especially not in a professional capacity. The same way that you want to show loyalty to your Unspeakables, I made a commitment to the entire DMLE. You form part of that group, so you have my loyalty. I know that you probably won’t believe me until I’ve proved it, but you have it.”

Blaise considered her words. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

Hermione wanted to push, but she knew that she was more likely to get the results she wanted by playing the long game.

She smiled politely. “Good. In the meantime, please do get back to me with the information I asked for. I will remind you again that I outrank you, so regardless of my best wishes for this department and whether or not you believe me, you are obligated to cooperate.”

Blaise walked her out, and the silence felt a little less awkward than it had earlier. She decided to take that as a good sign.

Hermione agreed to have lunch with Harry and Ginny the following Friday, partly because he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and partly because she could really use the company.

“I love this place,” Ginny exclaimed when they’d taken their seats at a table near a window. “The potato skins are to die for.”

It was a muggle café with an outdoorsy theme. Hermione liked the welcoming atmosphere and the way everyone else seemed to be too busy with their own lives to care very much about anyone else, except to smile at them in passing.

Harry laughed. “When Ginny and I first came here, she got so angry at the idea of a restaurant selling peels.”

“It was very strange!” Ginny defended herself. “Who does that?”

“She ordered it anyway,” Harry told Hermione, who was smiling indulgently at the two of them. “And loved it, which is why we come back here so often.”

“It’s nice to have familiar things to come back to,” Hermione said. “Something risk free that you know you will enjoy to counteract the uncertainty of life.”

Ginny gave her a strange look. “That’s very deep for a Friday afternoon. Is everything alright?”

Hermione busied herself with the menu. “Yeah, of course. I guess I might be feeling a little sentimental today.”

She saw Harry frown out of the corner of her eye. “Did you go see your parents?”

Hermione took a breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. “It’s still a losing battle.”

“I’m very sorry, Hermione,” Ginny said. “This isn’t a situation anyone should find themselves in.”

Hermione had sent her parents to Australia before she set out on a mad hunt for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron. Their memories were altered to remove any trace of her existence. As far as they knew, they had lived in Australia all their life. Wendell was an avid surfer. Monica always went along to the beach to support him because she liked the fresh air. It wasn’t a life Hermione would have felt guilty to leave them in if anything had happened to her. She was sure they could have been very happy, if it wasn’t for a small error in the way she’d cast the Obliviate spell.

She had been so careful. She’d done the research, planned out every wand movement and inflection in her tone to ensure that she would cause as little damage to their minds as possible. In the moment, though, when she had looked at them and decided that she was going to go through with it, she had been emotional. Despite her best efforts, Wendell and Monica were victims of spell damage. They experienced sudden flashes of strange memories that weren’t theirs but felt so very real. Sometimes they lost entire stretches of time and had trouble remembering how they’d gotten somewhere. It was bad enough that they’d gone to a Muggle doctor for medical attention. The Muggle and Wizarding healthcare systems in Australia were integrated in such a way that local Wizarding authorities were alerted of a possible case of spell damage, leading to an official investigation that found its way back to Kingsley, and Hermione by association.

They’d been in the spell damage ward at St Mungo’s ever since. There wasn’t a day that went by where Hermione didn’t feel guilty about what she’d done to them. She found it difficult to explain to Harry when he asked that, yes, she did feel guilty, but she didn’t regret it, and those were different things. If she had to choose between having them a little confused, or gruesomely murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange, she would make the exact same decision every time.

That didn’t make seeing them in hospital any easier, especially when there was nothing she could do to make things better.

The waiter approached their table with a smile. They ordered drinks, with Hermione picking something at nearly random from the back of the menu.

“How are you finding the Harpies?” Hermione took the opportunity to change the subject. “Is it everything you imagined?”

Ginny grinned, leaving no doubt that she was having the time of her life. “I absolutely love it. Of course, travelling back and forth is a pain, especially after a bad day when I’d love nothing more than to go home and I don’t have that option.”

Harry squeezed her hand, his attention halfway stuck on the menu.

“The job itself is incredible, though,” Ginny continued. “I love the people on my team, even if I want to kill them sometimes. And it’s quidditch. I’ve always loved the sport, so getting to make a living playing it is a wonderful feeling.”

Hermione found herself genuinely smiling. “I bet. Harry told me you were thinking of trying out for the captaincy?”

Ginny pulled a face. “I am considering it, but I don’t think it’s a realistic goal for right now. Maybe in a year or two when I’ve secured my position on the team a bit more and I understand how to navigate the politics behind it.”

“She has Gwenog Jones wrapped around her little finger,” Harry said with a teasing smile just for Ginny, who rolled her eyes.

“Gwenog offered to show me the ropes. She was the one who suggested the captain thing.” It was clear that Ginny was very proud of herself, in that shy way that says she hadn’t really expected to be found worthy of Gwenog Jones’s attention.

“I’m very happy for you, Gin,” Hermione said. “I think you’d make a brilliant captain.”

Ginny smiled gratefully. Their drinks arrived, and Hermione found that she’d barely glanced at the menu. They ordered, and Harry told them about something he’d found while cleaning out one of the lesser used bedrooms at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione found that she didn’t mind third wheeling as much as she had built it up in her head. Still, Ron’s absence stood out like a sore thumb and she found herself missing him fiercely. It wasn’t that she couldn’t hold a conversation with Harry and Ginny without him, but she kept thinking of what he would say in response to one of Ginny’s jokes or a phrasing of the daily specials written on the wall, and she wanted him there to say them, even if she would be infuriated by half of them.

Ginny went to the bathroom while Harry settled the bill.

“Thanks for today,” Hermione said. “I guess I didn’t realise how much I needed some normal conversation.”

Harry smiled kindly. “You’re human, Hermione, and I know that you’re not taking this thing with Ron easily. Sometimes we all just need someone to talk to about light things that doesn’t have a humongous impact on society as we know it.”

Hermione prided herself on being someone who could hold interesting conversations. She had strong opinions that she would gladly share with anyone who would listen, and a basic knowledge of a wide variety of topics. There was a difference, though, between impressing a stranger with anecdotes of her job and knowing that, even if she sat in silence throughout the entire lunch, her friends wouldn’t love her any less.

“Right,” she said. She glanced in the direction of where Ginny had disappeared. “How do you feel about Ginny becoming captain?”

Harry counted the correct amount of bills, then looked up at Hermione. “What do I think about it?”

“Yeah. You’d probably see her less.”

Harry watched her carefully, as if trying to determine the reason for her question. “I love Ginny. I know that I will fight to my last breath to keep her near me. Even more than that, though, I know that I want her to get everything she could ever want out of life. So I will support her through anything she sets her mind to, even if it means that I get to spend less time with her.”

Hermione nodded. “I know that, that’s not what I’m asking. How do you feel about it?”

Harry’s frown deepened. “Obviously it’s not my favourite thing,” he admitted. “I miss her a lot when she’s not here, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

“I’m sorry. I know you can do it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Harry’s smile was bittersweet. “No, it doesn’t. I’m willing to go through a little discomfort for her, though.”

Hermione smiled too, and Ginny lowered herself back into her seat.

“Guess who I ran into in the bathroom,” she said.

Harry raised a curious eyebrow.

“Padma Patil!”

Hermione felt her eyes widen. “I haven’t seen her in so long.”

“I know,” Ginny agreed, “Hogwarts feels like it happened a lifetime ago.”

Hermione found herself glancing around the small restaurant. “Did she already leave?”

Even though Hermione had never connected with the girls she’d shared a dormitory with in the same way she’d bonded with Harry and Ron, there was a certain inevitable intimacy that came with living in such close proximity with someone. Even if she didn’t necessarily want to meet up with Padma once a week, she would have liked to know how she was doing.

“They’re having a get together at Luna’s and we’re invited,” Ginny said. “Would you like to go? I’m keen.”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t have any other plans for the night.”

Luna lived in a secluded spot near the Wizarding area of Ilkley. Hermione wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting from a house belonging to Luna Lovegood, but a very normal two-story redbrick with a neatly trimmed hedge around the front wasn’t it.

“Luna lives here?” Hermione asked.

“Not exactly what you expected, is it?” Ginny sounded gleeful. “I think she did that on purpose.”

Harry grinned. “This is Luna. Of course she did it on purpose.”

“Come on.” Hermione followed Ginny to the front door. It seemed as if Ginny came here often enough to be comfortable with knocking once before letting herself in.

Once inside, Hermione could make out some familiar voices. She recognised Neville’s deep drawl, followed by Parvati’s giggle. It felt weirdly like walking into the Gryffindor common room to find everyone already huddled around the fire.

Even the inside of Luna’s house was much tamer than what Hermione could remember from the house she and Xenophilius used to live in. Luna had trinkets around, but they were obviously placed thoughtfully, rather than scattered about.

It wasn’t that Hermione had ever had a problem with Luna. She respected her for the work she had done with the Quibbler in recent years. It had gone from a whimsical source of entertainment to a real unique alternative to the Daily Prophet. Luna made a point to publish information that wouldn’t be included in any Prophet articles, but rather than accomplishing that by writing what could only be described as nonsense, she took to approaching stories from a completely different perspective. Where Hermione might once have considered it a guilty pleasure to read the Quibbler, she now had no problem admitting to herself and others that she found quite a bit of value in the publication.

At school, she’d had a problem with the effortless way Luna abandoned all concept of reason for the sake of creativity. She walked around with her head in the clouds, and in a time where Hermione felt her life hanging in the balance, pretty thoughts didn’t have much of a place.

From what Hermione had heard about Luna Lovegood since then hardly seemed to match the idea of her as a person that Hermione had always had in her head.

They entered the living room. There were quite a few people there, more than Hermione had expected.

Luna stood to greet them. She looked the same, but different. Hermione was always amazed at how much a few years can change people. She was intrinsically aware of the fact that she would be almost unrecognisable to her younger self.

“Welcome,” Luna said as she hugged both Harry and Ginny. To Hermione’s surprise, she was enveloped in a hug, too. “Please make yourselves at home. There are butterbeers and mulled wine in the kitchen and Seamus is bringing cake later.”

Hermione followed Harry to the kitchen while Ginny was immediately drawn into a conversation about Luna’s latest gossip piece.

“Okay?” Harry asked. Hermione hadn’t thought that it was obvious how overwhelmed she was with seeing all these people again after so long, but it must have been. She made an effort to relax her shoulders.

“It feels like a reunion,” Hermione said. “I’m not sure if I like it.”

Harry had grabbed three butterbeers and was now looking for a bottle opener. There was a spell, but it was finicky and most Wizards preferred the manual option, especially when partaking in excessive alcohol consumption that makes it difficult to get even the simplest of spells right, never mind a fiddly charm to open bottle caps.

“How so?” he asked.

Hermione leaned against the counter. “Last time I saw Lavender, she was recovering from being bitten by Greyback. Dennis lost his brother. Cho never really recovered from losing Cedric. It’s still all I see when I look at them.”

Harry finally found a keychain with a purple fish bottle opener on the end. “Time changes people. They’re all coping as best they can in the ways they know how, just like you are. I don’t think it’s fair to limit them to what happened to them, do you?”

Hermione took a butterbeer from Harry’s outstretched hand. “No, it’s not fair, but I have no idea how to counteract it.”

“You managed with people at work. What made them different?”

“Everything is easier at work,” she admitted. “It’s less personal. Even if I knew some of them from before, I now interact with them in a professional capacity. I had to wrap my head around it for the sake of doing my job.”

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. “I think you’re overthinking this.”

“But what if I’m not?”

Harry almost rolled his eyes. It was just enough of a movement for Hermione to know that he disagreed with her.

“Okay. I’m going to tell you something, and you’re not going to like hearing it.”

Hermione took a breath and fixed him with an expectant look.

Harry took a slow sip before speaking. “You’re not afraid of how much they’ve changed. You’re afraid of not living up to the perception they have of you. Am I wrong?”

Hermione’s first instinct was to argue with him. She wanted to tell him that no, she was very successful, of course she wasn’t afraid of what her previous Housemates thought of her. They knew her. She had nothing to be nervous about.

But there was a reason why Harry was her best friend. He really did know her better than anyone. Many people assumed that he was oblivious, but the truth was that, when he didn’t have a sword hovering above his head, he could be very perceptive. She knew that it would likely do her good to consider his words before shooting it down.

She was successful. She loved her job. She had one of the most influential positions in the Ministry. She thought about what it would be like to go out there if she had a less important job. For some reason, her throat closed up and she thought that Harry had probably hit the nail on the head.

“Okay. Let’s say you’re right.”

Harry smirked, but it was gentle. “I am right.”

She shot him a playful glare. “Can you not gloat right now and help me through this.”

Harry’s hand landed on her back, and he rubbed it softly up and down, twice. “You go out there and you ask Neville about his plants. Ask Parvati about her new girlfriend and if you get overwhelmed, come talk to me about something that doesn’t matter. Nobody is here to judge you. They’re all very proud of how far you’ve come, but that’s not why they want to hang out with you. Your achievements don’t define you, so there’s no need to live up to what you once accomplished.”

Hermione lifted her own bottle to her lips. It went down just as smoothly as it always did, with a pleasant warm feeling following almost immediately.

“Alright,” she said. “I can follow those exact instructions.”

Harry grinned again. He headed for the kitchen door with a tilt of his head. Hermione followed.

Conveniently, there was a spot open on the loveseat where Neville was sitting. Harry gave her an encouraging nod, then went to press a kiss on Ginny’s cheek and hand her the third butterbeer.

Neville smiled and turned towards Hermione when she sat down.

“Hermione, hey,” he greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” she said, and it was true. “I heard you’re apprenticing under Professor Sprout? Does she work you as hard as she used to in Herbology?”

Neville chuckled. “Harder, actually. I swear the woman was a slavedriver in her previous life.”

“How long do you have left?”

“It’s five years total,” Neville said. “So I should be finishing up by the end of next year, if Professor Sprout approves my thesis.”

“I’m sure she will,” Hermione assured him. “I have every confidence that you know what you’re talking about.”

Neville groaned. “She knows so much more. It never fails to amaze me how much there is that I don’t know, and as much as it frustrates me, I don’t know if I want it to go away completely.”

Hermione found herself relaxing. Talking to Neville was easy. It was easier, even, than when they’d been at school. She thought it had a lot to do with how much Neville seemed to have grown into himself. Despite the doubts he expressed, she could see that he was completely aware that he knew what he was doing.

“What else do you have going on?” Hermione asked. Now that the ice was broken, she found her previous curiosity returning. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Neville’s cheeks reddened just a little. “I am, actually.”

Hermione grinned. “Do I know them?”

He nodded. “Hannah Abbot? From Hufflepuff?”

Hermione remembered her. Even though she hadn’t spoken to Hannah that often, she was friends with Lavender and Padma and would sometimes be around. She had always seemed very sweet, and Hermione thought that Neville deserved someone kind.

She continued talking to Neville for a while after that. Eventually, Parvati joined them. By the time Dean and Seamus arrived with plenty of shouting and an only lightly squashed vanilla cake, she’d calmed down almost completely and was enjoying herself.

She still wished Ron was with her. Harry had been right about looking for the change in these people she’d known nearly her whole life. It was making her realise that yes, they’d changed just as much as she had, but she could still see the essence of them. She had to believe that her essence was still visible to other people, too.

She met with Bill Weasley and Vicky Frobisher at the same time.

As it happened, her day had been a mess from the moment she stepped out of bed with a migraine. She’d spilled scorching hot tea on her only clean shirt, making her skin turn bright red and blistery. Harry hadn’t been there, since he’d gone to visit Ginny in Wales for the weekend. That left her to attempt to salvage her clothing with a half-assed Scourgify and a splash of water. It got the stain out, but did nothing to alleviate the nauseating smell of spilled tea from her nostrils, which did a great job of worsening her migraine.

But she’d made it to work, arriving just in time to run into Bill in the Atrium.

“Hermione, good morning.” He rushed to catch up with her. “You’re in a hurry.”

She smiled apologetically and slowed to match his pace. “I didn’t want to be the only late one to our meeting.”

Bill’s grin was very similar to Ron’s, but with just enough of an ‘I know everything’ cheek to keep it from making her miss him too much. “Never fear, this is me being early because I respect you too much to keep you waiting.”

Hermione laughed. “We’re ten minutes late.”

Bill waved her off. “Early.”

They stepped into the lift, which was mercifully empty.

“Have you dealt with Vicky much before?” she asked.

Vicky Frobisher was the head of the Goblin Liaison Office. Bill still worked for Gringotts, so Hermione had asked him to be the Gringotts representative for her taskforce. She herself hadn’t had much contact with Vicky aside from occasionally passing her in the hallways, and being this unprepared for a meeting wasn’t doing her any favours in her present state of mind.

“I’ve worked with her once before,” Bill said. “She has a good head on her shoulders.”

Hermione nodded. “Good. Kingsley is taking this very seriously, and so am I.”

Bill looked thoughtful. “I should warn you that this entire process might not go exactly the way you want it to. There is every possibility that the goblins will cause trouble and leave us right back on square one.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to do it properly.”

“Hermione,” Bill said, “If we have any chance of seeing this thing through, it’s with you in charge.”

She smiled sheepishly at the complement.

The lift dropped them off on level four. Hermione led the way to Vicky’s office, Bill short on her heels. The door was open, so she only had to knock twice to gain Vicky’s attention, who smiled and waved them in.

Hermione and Bill sat down across from her.

“Hi, Ms Granger, Bill,” she greeted. “I have to say I was not expecting you to contact me.”

Hermione took out the file she had prepared for the meeting. “Please, call me Hermione.” She handed both Vicky and Bill a sheet of parchment. “This is the broad description I’ve prepared on what your role would be in the taskforce. I thought it might be helpful if we limited the number of people with direct access to the goblins as much as possible. Miscommunication is our biggest enemy right now, and if anyone with a vague understanding of the English language can speak to the goblins, claiming it to be on behalf of the Ministry, we’re going to end up with a messy situation before too long.”

Bill quickly scanned over his copy. “Sure.”

“What you’re trying to accomplish here,” Vicky said slowly. “It’s not going to be easy. In fact, I’m not even sure if it’s at all possible.”

“Of course not,” Hermione agreed. “If it was easy, someone else would have done it by now. That doesn’t mean we can’t try our hand at it. We might just succeed. Crazier things have happened in this world.”

Bill chuckled. “I admire your attitude.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said. “It’s a side-effect of winning a war.”

They went over the rest of the list. Vicky had quite a few insightful comments that simultaneously diminished Hermione’s hope and made her think that they might just be able to pull this off.

After an hour had passed, Hermione stood. “I have a meeting with the Wizengamot soon. I’ll be in touch, but feel free to reach out if I can be of any help.” She turned to Vicky. “I would appreciate if you could get me a list of names of individuals that you think would be well-suited to leading the negotiations.”

Vicky glanced at Bill before looking back at Hermione. “I will discuss it with Bill now and get back to you as soon as possible.”

Hermione nodded, bid them goodbye, and rushed for the elevator.

It wasn’t a secret that Tiberius Ogden had resigned from his position on the Wizengamot soon after Umbridge’s interference. At the time, Hermione had thought him a coward for not staying. She reckoned that, if he really wanted to make a difference, he had a better chance doing so from his high position within the Ministry than as an unemployed, former Wizengamot member with family ties in the liquor industry.

It had been Kingsley’s idea to reinstate him as Chief Warlock.

“I don’t know,” Hermione had said.

“Why?”

“We already know he decided to quit the moment he disagreed with previous Ministry policies. I don’t know if I want to constantly worry that he’ll do it again if I do something he disagrees with, which is going to be inevitable if we really want to make any significant changes.”

Kingsley took a minute to think it over. “No, I doubt that he will resign again. I’d like to believe that we wouldn’t disregard him the way Umbridge and Fudge had. The way people behave when they think they’re purposefully being shut down at every turn is vastly different than when they are rejected based on logical, rational arguments.” He tapped his fingers against his desk. “Besides, I used to work with him when I was still in the Auror’s Office. He’s a reasonable man with good values and a strong backbone. It’s why he had the guts to resign in protest to the Ministry’s actions rather than try to keep a low profile in a time of uncertainty.”

Observing the situation from this angle made Hermione nod. “I see your point, Minister. Do you think we’d have to do much convincing to get him back?”

It turned out that, despite Tiberius Ogden’s fierce love for both his wife and the English countryside, he didn’t take kindly to being idle. Hermione had taken a liking to him almost immediately after meeting him.

“Hermione!” Tiberius exclaimed when she entered his office. “I heard you’re stirring up trouble again.”

“Sorry I’m late, sir,” she said, sitting down. “I was in a different meeting that ran longer than intended.”

He waved her off. “No worries, no worries. Tell me, how are you?”

Hermione grimaced. “This day has been nothing but excruciating.”

Tiberius looked concerned. “Are you getting enough sleep? Should I have a word with the Minister about your workload? Kingsley has never been lenient with his expectations of people.”

Hermione smiled gently. “There’s no need, but thank you for the offer. I set my own schedule.”

“So I should be berating you for not allowing yourself time to rest?” He peered at her over the rim of his glasses with a stern frown.

“I get plenty of rest,” she argued. “But I also have a job that doesn’t wait for anyone. I presume you know why I’m here?”

Tiberius sat back in his chair. He folded his fingers together over his stomach and gave her his undivided attention.

“You’re negotiating with goblins.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I’m putting together a taskforce to handle the case.”

“What exactly do you wish to achieve?”

“What do you mean?”

“If this project meets your expectations in every way imaginable,” Tiberius said, “What do you see yourself achieving? Do you want all goblins to have wands? If we give them wands, should they have mandatory training on how to use them, like Wizards do at Hogwarts? Are wands a specialty item, only allowed for a handful of goblins? If so, how do we distinguish between those who may have one and those who don’t? Are there circumstances in which their wands can be confiscated? What do we want in return for giving them wands? Will their belief that everything goblin-made belongs to goblins, regardless of who paid for it, extend to wands? Will the wands be returned to Wizard possession when the goblin in question passes away?”

Hermione listened calmly. “This is why I’m here, of course. Everything you named, and I’m sure there are plenty more, are important details that we need to specify in any kind of alteration we make to current laws. I have no intention of skirting Wizengamot policies to further my own agenda. I want the most qualified people possible to handle this. There is very little room for error.”

Tiberius watched her carefully. “The Wizengamot would need to be presented with the full final negotiated settlement, whereafter a vote of 78% is needed to approve any changes. I cannot help you if the members choose to vote against you. Are you willing to take the chance of continuing with these negotiations if you can’t promise the goblins that it won’t be for nothing?”

It was a question Hermione had asked herself since the moment Kingsley assigned her this task.

“I think,” Hermione said, “that if we don’t give the goblins a chance to fight for their rights using official channels, they are going to start another rebellion. In fact, the B.O.G. are already acting up. They lost many of their own at the hands of Voldemort. To them, there is very little difference from one Wizard to another. We need to prove to them that we can be an ally.”

Tiberius squinted. “I hear what you’re saying, Ms Granger, but these are goblins, not Wizards. They are unreasonable and dislike compromise. Do you understand what the implications would be if anything goes wrong?”

Hermione lifted her chin stubbornly. “We’ll have to make sure nothing goes wrong, then.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “How much of a part did Harry Potter play in his claim to fame? I’m starting to think it was mostly you.”

Hermione shrugged. “There is a job to be done. It doesn’t matter who gets the credit.”

Tiberius watched her silently for a moment. “What do you need from me?”

Hermione felt her shoulders relax in relief. “We need to avoid any legal loopholes that the goblins may try to set up for themselves. I have negotiators, investigators, Aurors, and Unspeakables ready to make this their top priority. None of them are necessarily experts on Magical Law, and that is essential if we have any hope of succeeding. I need a Wizengamot liaison to join the team.”

“You’ll need Griselda Marchbanks.”

Hermione frowned. “With all due respect to your friend, sir, do you really think she is in a fit state to handle such a delicate situation? She is very old, and although that shouldn’t be any indication of a person’s capability of performing a task, there has been rumours of her cognitive decline in recent years.”

“Her cognitive function is better than mine,” Tiberius said. “I’m telling you right now that you won’t find anyone with her experience and intelligence who would be willing to advocate for the wand-bearing rights of goblins.” He scribbled something down on a piece of parchment. “This is her address. Send an owl before you show up, she is very skilled in hostile protective charms.”

Hermione took it from him with a grin. “I’ll send my most persuasive employee.”

By the time Hermione got home, she was exhausted, but not displeased with how her day had turned out. She had a complete Goblin Relations Taskforce filled with highly skilled people. Her project had the approval of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, as well as the Ministry for Magic. The sealed and heavily charmed letter she had received from Blaise Zabini just before leaving for home indicated that she was making progress in earning his trust.

She’d sent Neville to Griselda Marchbanks, since it was common knowledge that she had been close friends with Augusta Longbottom. Hermione wasn’t above some emotional blackmail from time to time to achieve her goals, and it had paid off. The first meeting with the entire taskforce was set to happen within exactly three days, which would be one week before Bill and Vicky’s chosen negotiator had a meeting with two goblin leaders, one from the B.O.G. and one from Gringotts.

For the moment, she had things under control. It was inevitable that once the negotiations started, they would face plenty of obstacles. The best part of being one of the highest links in the chain of command was that she had more knowledgeable people at her exposal who would do the grunt work for her.

She headed straight for the kitchen, acutely aware of how little she had eaten all day.

She was halfway through gathering the ingredients for a cheese sandwich when she noticed that she wasn’t alone.

Ron smiled sheepishly from his spot at the kitchen table. “Hello, Hermione.”

Harry, who was seated next to him, took an innocent sip of his tea.

Hermione sighed. “I’ll be out of your hair soon, don’t worry. I’m completely knackered.”

“Tough day?” Ron asked. He was watching her with the same intense blue stare that had always been her weakness.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “But productive.”

Harry stood, drawing their attention away from each other with the scrape of his chair against the floor. “I promised Ginny I’d Floo-call her,” he explained half-heartedly. As excuses went, it was rather bad.

Hermione nodded anyway and went back to making her sandwich.

Ron waited quietly for her to finish eating. Once she’d rinsed her plate, she sat down across from him.

“Hi,” Hermione said.

Ron leaned back in his seat. “I’ve missed you.”

Hermione took a breath, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Ron fiddled with a gap in the woodgrains. He looked uncomfortable. Hermione wanted to take that feeling away from him, but she also didn’t. She was tired, and their break had been his idea. She was willing to listen to him if he wanted to speak to her, but he needed to be the one to get the words out.

“Hermione,” he said, “did I make a mistake by breaking up with you?”

 _Of course you did_ , she wanted to yell. _I love you._

Instead, she smiled tiredly. “I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not that complicated. There was a point in time where you thought that there was no easier alternative than breaking up with me. I can’t be the one to tell you that you feeling that way was a mistake. It needs to be something you figure out for yourself.” She frowned. “That was the whole reason we broke up, wasn’t it? We had stuff to figure out by ourselves.”

Ron took a moment before speaking. “We broke up because my brother died and your parents couldn’t remember you and we’d been through the worst few years possible. Neither of us knew who we were outside of a life-or-death situation, and there’s no way to build a healthy relationship on a foundation as shaky as that.” He met her gaze. “That makes sense, right? I wasn’t kidding myself?”

“It makes complete sense,” Hermione told him. “It just fails to take into account the fact that emotions aren’t meant to be logical.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Are you really telling me to disregard logic? You, of all people?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m not all about logic, all the time. I love you. That doesn’t have to make sense, it’s just something that’s true.”

“I want you back.” Ron spoke slowly, like he had been mulling over those exact words for a long time. “But I have no idea if it’ll be any better this time around. Did being by ourselves solve the problem, or did we just adapt to not being together?”

Hermione thought of the months she’d spent by herself. She would be lying if she tried to say that they were easy. She missed Ron. She needed him to be there for her as she watched her parents continue to look at her with blank stares, or as Dawlish’s voice telling her that she was too young to run the DMLE reverberated around and around in her head until she could think of nothing else.

She could handle life on her own, she knew she was strong enough. She just didn’t want to.

“I have an ultimatum for you,” she said. Ron looked wary. “I’m willing to give this relationship another chance. We’ve both proven to ourselves and to each other that we are fully capable of being alone. If we go into this relationship, it’s going to be because we want to be together, not because we have no other choice. And I promise you, if you leave me in any way again, I won’t come back. It happened in the forest and it happened here, and I’m done with being left behind. If you don’t want to make that commitment, then I think we need to make the decision to end this now, once and for all.”

Ron swallowed. “You’re right. I doubt myself and take it out on you without thinking about how it might affect you. You’ve never once given any indication that you wanted to leave me, but I keep convincing myself that you’re better off without me.”

“Well,” Hermione said, “I’ve been without you, now, and I can tell you that I’m not better off. I miss having you close to me. I miss hearing your voice and putting up with all the idiotic things you say. It makes no sense because you drive me off the wall, but I miss you.”

The corners of Ron’s lips started to curve up. “I’m all in if you are?”

They had a long way to go. Hermione was under no impression that everything would be alright just because they were back together. Relationships take work and they take communication and arguments and negotiations, and she knew that neither of them had been in the headspace for it a few months back. Whether they were ready or not remained to be seen.

But she wanted to try.


End file.
